I woke to the unfamiliar weight of Darian's arm across my waist, his breath warm against my neck. The digital clock on his nightstand read 4:17 a.m.—the witching hour, when my ability had always been at its sharpest. But this was different. The anchor connection between us hummed with a clarity I'd never experienced, and when I closed my eyes, I could still see frequencies pulsing through the darkness.
Not hear them. See them.
I shifted carefully, trying not to wake him, but his breathing changed immediately. Through our connection, I sensed his consciousness surfacing—not with the disorientation of normal waking, but with the instant alertness of someone trained to sleep with one eye open.
"You see them too," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. Not a question.
"Yeah." I turned to face him in the dim light filtering through his bedroom windows. "Is that normal?"
"Nothing about this is normal." He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes reflecting the city lights beyond the glass. "The anchor connection between Lilith and Subject Five—Marcus—never manifested like this."
"How did it manifest?"
His gaze drifted, focusing on something I couldn't see. "Physical amplification. Enhanced strength, accelerated healing. Nothing... perceptual."
I sat up, pulling the sheet around me. In the darkness, the frequencies appeared as translucent ribbons of light—amber, indigo, crimson—flowing from various sources. Some emanated from electronic devices, others from the living organisms in the apartment—plants by the window, fish in the tank across the room. The strongest current flowed between Darian and me, a complex weave of complementary tones.
"It's like a map," I said, tracing the patterns with my eyes. "Every emotional frequency, every electrical signature, all visible."
Darian sat up beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. The contact sent a ripple through our connection, intensifying the visual display. "What exactly do you see?"
I described the ribbons of light, the way they curved and tangled and dispersed through space. As I spoke, his own perception seemed to sharpen, as if my words were calibrating his vision.
"I see it," he said suddenly. "Not as clearly as you do, but..." He reached out, fingers tracing the air where a particularly bright strand flowed. "This is your perception, feeding into mine through the anchor."
"Is that possible?"
"Theoretically." His expression was contemplative, analytical. "The ECHO-7 research suggested complementary abilities could create emergent effects, but we never saw anything like this."
I slipped out of bed, wrapping the sheet around me as I moved to the window. The frequencies extended beyond the glass, a sprawling network of light stretching across the cityscape. Countless threads of varying intensity, all pulsing with life and emotion.
"If we can see emotional frequencies..." I began.
"Then we can track them to their source," Darian finished, joining me at the window. He stood close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin, but not quite touching. Still, our connection remained vibrant, undiminished by the small distance. "Including Lilith and Marcus."
"And they could probably track us the same way."
"Yes." His gaze met mine, reflected in the window glass. "This is why strengthening the anchor was necessary. We're visible to them now, but they're also visible to us."
I turned to face him directly. "So what's the plan? We've got a frequency GPS system now. How do we use it?"
Darian moved to a sleek console beneath a minimalist painting on the far wall. With a touch, the wall transformed into a high-resolution display. A global map materialized, dotted with red and blue points.
"These are the frequency signatures we've been tracking," he explained. "Red for Marcus, blue for Lilith. They've been moving in tandem but never appearing in the same location."
I studied the pattern, noting the most recent markers clustered around our city. "They're closing in."
"They've been here for weeks, laying groundwork. The merger negotiation is their opportunity to access Chen's neural interface stability algorithm."
"And now we can actually see them coming." I felt a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. "But what exactly do we do when we find them? I'm not exactly trained for combat against military-grade empaths."
A ghost of a smile touched Darian's lips. "That's why we have two days. We need to map the full extent of what this strengthened connection can do, and develop countermeasures specific to their abilities."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning we train." He gestured to a door I hadn't noticed before, partially hidden in the wall. "Starting now."
---
The room beyond the hidden door was nothing like the sleek, modernist aesthetic of the rest of the penthouse. Steel walls, concrete floor, and an array of equipment that looked like it belonged in both a physics lab and a military training facility.
"What the fuck is this place?" I asked, wrapping my borrowed robe tighter around me. The ambient temperature was at least ten degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment.
"Frequency isolation chamber," Darian replied, moving to a control panel. "Designed to block external emotional signatures and allow focused practice with empathic abilities."
"You just happen to have one of these in your apartment?"
"I had it installed three years ago, when we first identified you as a potential complement to counter Marcus."
The implications of that sank in slowly. "So you've been planning this for... three years?"
"Planning for the possibility," he corrected, activating a series of switches. The room hummed to life, and the chaotic swirl of frequency ribbons I'd been seeing suddenly simplified, reduced to just the connection between us. "There were other candidates. You were the most promising."
I should have been angry at the calculated nature of it all, but somehow, after everything we'd shared, it felt like ancient history. What mattered was the present—and the very real threat we were facing.
"So how does this training work?" I asked, observing the anchor connection between us, now more visible than ever in the isolated space.
"First, we map the extent of your abilities with the strengthened anchor." Darian approached, his demeanor shifting to something more clinical, though the warmth in our connection contradicted his professional tone. "What could you do before that you couldn't previously?"
I considered. "I can see frequencies now, not just hear them. And I can feel yours more clearly—your emotions, your physical sensations."
"Can you influence what I'm feeling?"
The question caught me off guard. "I don't know. I've never tried to project emotions, only detect them."
"Try," he said simply.
I focused on our connection, feeling the current that flowed between us. It was different from how I normally used my ability. Instead of listening passively, I needed to broadcast—to push a specific emotional frequency through our link.
I thought about what would be easily recognizable, distinct from what he might already be feeling. Settled on a specific memory from years ago—a moment of pure, unexpected joy when I'd stepped outside during the first snowfall of winter, the world transformed into something magical and silent.
Focusing on that feeling, I tried to channel it through our connection, pushing the frequency toward him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his eyes widened slightly.
"That's..." he paused, seeming to search for words. "That's not my emotion."
"You felt it?"
"Snow," he said quietly. "The silence of it. The way it transforms everything."
A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. "That's exactly what I was thinking of."
His expression was carefully neutral, but through our connection, I felt his unease. "This is what Lilith can do. Project manufactured emotional states. But you've never shown this capability before."
"I didn't know I had it." The implications were both thrilling and terrifying. "What else might I be able to do that I don't know about?"
"That's what we need to find out." He moved to a console and entered a series of commands. A holographic display appeared, showing what looked like a neural network. "This is a standard map of emotional frequencies as understood by ECHO-7 research."
I studied the glowing diagram, recognizing some of the patterns from what I perceived in daily life. "These are base emotional states?"
"Yes. Fear, anger, joy, grief, desire—all have distinct frequency signatures. What made Lilith dangerous was her ability to combine and project them with precision." He adjusted the display, highlighting certain pathways. "What made Marcus dangerous was his ability to amplify them to overwhelming levels."
"And me? What's my trick supposed to be?"
"Detection and navigation. You can hear emotional frequencies from greater distances and with more nuance than any subject we studied." His eyes met mine. "Combined with my ability to dampen and nullify frequencies, we create a complementary defense system."
"But now I can project too," I pointed out. "And you can perceive frequencies through our connection. We're not just complementary—we're enhancing each other's baseline abilities."
A flicker of something—concern? excitement?—passed through our link. "Exactly. Which means we need to understand exactly what we're capable of before the final negotiation."
He led me to the center of the room, where a circle was marked on the floor. "Stand here. Close your eyes. Tell me what you can detect beyond this room."
I did as instructed, focusing my awareness outward. At first, there was nothing—the isolation chamber working as designed. But then, faintly, I began to perceive threads of frequency penetrating the barriers.
"There's... someone two floors down. Anxiety, insomnia." I turned slightly, tracking another signature. "Security guard in the lobby. Boredom, drowsiness." Turning further. "A couple in the building across the street. They're arguing. He's defensive, she's hurt and angry."
I opened my eyes to find Darian watching me with undisguised fascination. "That's at least three times the range you demonstrated previously."
"And I can see the frequencies, not just hear them. It's like... emotional radar."
"Can you influence any of them from here?"
I hesitated. "I've never tried to project to someone I'm not connected to."
"Try the security guard. Something subtle—just enough to wake him up a bit."
Ethical questions flickered through my mind, but I pushed them aside. If we were going to counter what Lilith and Marcus could do, I needed to understand my full capabilities. I focused on the drowsy security guard, visualizing his frequency signature, and sent a small pulse of alertness—the feeling of noticing something unexpected in your peripheral vision.
The effect was immediate and startling. I could see the guard's frequency shift, spiking with sudden awareness. Through our connection, I felt Darian's approval.
"Good. Now try dampening the couple's argument. Not completely—just take the edge off their emotions."
This was harder. Two separate targets, two distinct emotional states to influence. I focused on the angry threads connecting them, visualizing a cooling, calming frequency overlaid on their heated exchange. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, gradually, the intensity of their emotional signatures began to soften.
"It's working," I murmured, surprised at how intuitive it felt once I understood what I was doing.
"Now pull back," Darian instructed. "Don't leave any trace of your influence."
I withdrew carefully, watching as their emotional states stabilized at a less intense level. The argument continued, but the dangerous edge had been blunted.
When I turned back to Darian, his expression was both impressed and concerned. "You're a natural projector. Better than Lilith in some ways—more subtle, less detectable."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Both." He moved to the console again, bringing up a new display—a simulation of brain activity patterns. "What makes Lilith dangerous isn't just projection, but sustained manipulation. She can implant emotional states that linger, influencing behavior long after she's gone."
"Can I do that too?"
"Let's find out." He faced me directly. "Project something to me—something complex. I'll try to detect and counter it."
I considered what might be challenging enough to test both our abilities. Something with layers, nuance. I settled on a feeling I knew well—the moment just before performing at Resonance, when anticipation, nerves, confidence, and vulnerability all coexisted in perfect, exquisite tension.
Focusing on that emotional cocktail, I pushed it through our connection toward Darian. I watched his face as the frequencies hit, saw the subtle widening of his eyes, the slight parting of his lips. Through our link, I could feel the emotion taking hold in him, resonating with his own experiences of pre-mission tension.
"Now dampen it," I said softly. "Push it back."
His eyes narrowed in concentration. I could feel him gathering his ability, creating that static barrier I'd first encountered. But instead of a wall, it was more directed now—a focused counter-frequency that began to neutralize what I'd projected.
The struggle was fascinating to watch through our visual perception of frequencies. My projection appeared as ribbons of light flowing toward him, while his dampening effect manifested as a kind of noise that disrupted the patterns, breaking them apart before they could fully take hold.
For several minutes, we pushed and pulled, testing the limits of our abilities. I learned to layer projections, making them harder to unravel. He developed more precise dampening techniques, targeting specific emotional threads rather than blocking everything.
When we finally stopped, both of us were breathing hard, though neither had moved physically. The mental exertion was as taxing as any workout.
"You're stronger than I expected," Darian admitted, a note of respect in his voice.
"So are you." I studied the visual representation of our connection, noting how it had evolved during our practice. "We're learning from each other through the anchor. Your techniques are influencing mine, and vice versa."
He nodded, moving to a refrigerated compartment and retrieving two bottles of water. He handed one to me. "This is what makes our connection different from what Lilith and Marcus developed. Their abilities amplified each other, but remained distinct. Ours are..." he hesitated, searching for the right word.
"Merging," I supplied, taking a long drink. "Becoming something new."
"Yes." He looked troubled by the implications. "Which means we need to be careful. If we can see and influence frequencies at this range after just one night of strengthened connection..."
"Then what happens after two days?" I finished the thought.
The question hung between us, unanswered. Through our link, I felt his concern—not just about our growing abilities, but about what would happen when we confronted Lilith and Marcus. And beneath that, something deeper, more personal: worry about what this permanent entanglement of our minds might mean beyond the tactical necessity that had brought us together.
"We should continue," he said finally, setting down his water bottle. "Try targeting specific emotions now. Fear first—it's the easiest to project and detect."
We spent the next several hours working through the spectrum of emotional frequencies, mapping what we could do individually and together. I learned to project with precision, focusing emotional states on specific memories or thoughts. Darian developed more sophisticated dampening techniques, creating selective barriers that could block certain frequencies while allowing others through.
By the time the isolation chamber's clock showed 8:00 a.m., we had a much clearer understanding of our enhanced capabilities—and the dangers they presented.
"Enough for now," Darian said, powering down the room's systems. "We need to rest and process what we've learned."
As the isolation effect faded, the world of frequencies beyond the chamber came rushing back—a cacophony of emotional signals from the awakening city. It was overwhelming after hours of focused practice, and I swayed slightly on my feet.
Darian's hand caught my elbow, steadying me. Through our connection, I felt his concern, and something else—a protective instinct that went beyond professional obligation.
"Food," he said simply. "Then we develop our strategy for the negotiation."
---
Over breakfast—which Darian prepared with the same methodical precision he applied to everything—we discussed what we'd learned and how to apply it against Lilith and Marcus.
"The separation pattern is key," he explained, setting a plate of perfectly arranged eggs and toast before me. "They never operate in the same location simultaneously. That's deliberate—their combined abilities created dangerous feedback loops when they were in close proximity."
I sipped the coffee he'd made, noting with amusement that he'd prepared it exactly as I preferred—information gleaned through our connection rather than conversation. "So we need to keep them separated too?"
"The opposite, actually." He sat across from me, his own breakfast untouched. "If we can force them into the same space, their connection becomes a vulnerability rather than a strength."
"How do we do that? If they've been careful to stay apart for years, they're not going to suddenly decide to attend the same meeting."
"No, but we can bring Marcus to us." He activated a display embedded in the dining table, bringing up the floor plans for the Meridian Biotechnologies building where the final negotiation would take place. "The meeting is here, on the executive level. Chen, Victor Chen from Helix, their respective legal teams, and us."
"And Lilith," I added.
"Yes. She'll be there as Victor's 'strategic advisor.' What they don't know is that we can now detect Marcus's frequency signature at much greater range than before. If he's anywhere within a half-mile radius, monitoring through their connection..."
"We can find him and pull him in," I finished, understanding dawning. "Use our projection abilities to create a frequency signature so compelling he can't resist investigating."
"Exactly." Darian's eyes met mine, approval flowing through our link. "We create an irresistible lure—something that plays directly to his specific emotional vulnerabilities."
"Which are?"
Darian's expression darkened slightly. "His desire to prove himself superior to me. And his attachment to Lilith."
"You're suggesting we use your history as bait," I observed. "That's risky. What if his hatred for you is stronger than we anticipate?"
"That's where our enhanced abilities come in." He pulled up another display—a diagram of emotional frequency combinations. "We create a layered projection—surface hostility that draws him in, underlaid with subtle frequencies that make him vulnerable to suggestion once he's present."
The tactical precision of it was impressive, but something about the plan troubled me. "Isn't this exactly the kind of manipulation we're trying to stop them from doing on a mass scale?"
Darian paused, considering my question with unexpected seriousness. Through our connection, I felt his internal struggle—the pragmatic operative weighing ethical concerns against necessary action.
"Yes," he admitted finally. "The methods are similar. The difference is in the scope and intent. We're targeting two individuals who have demonstrated willingness to harm thousands, potentially millions, with their abilities."
It was a rationalization, but not an entirely unconvincing one. Still, the ease with which we were both adapting to these new, intrusive capabilities was concerning. I could feel the same discomfort echoed in Darian's thoughts, visible through our connection.
"There's something else we need to discuss," I said, setting down my coffee cup. "After this is over—after we've stopped them—what happens to us? To this?" I gestured between us, indicating the glowing threads of our anchor connection.
The question caught him off guard. Through our link, I felt a surge of conflicting emotions—uncertainty, attachment, fear of loss, and something deeper that neither of us was ready to name.
"I don't know," he answered with unexpected honesty. "The connection is permanent now. We could try to dampen it, reduce its intensity, but severing it completely..." He shook his head. "That would require measures I'm not willing to take."
"Meaning what?"
"Neural recalibration. Essentially, selective memory erasure and emotional dampening on a physical level. Even then, the connection would likely resurface eventually."
"So we're stuck with each other," I said, processing this new reality.
"Yes." His gaze was steady, unflinching. "Is that a problem for you?"
The question was deceptively simple, but layered with meaning. Was I troubled by the permanent psychic link to a man I'd met less than two weeks ago? A man who had manipulated events to bring us together, who had hidden crucial information until forced to reveal it? A man who had shared his body, his mind, and now his enhanced abilities with me?
Through our connection, I knew he could sense my thought process, just as I could feel his tension as he awaited my answer.
"No," I said finally, surprising myself with the certainty I felt. "It's not a problem. It's... unexpected. Complicated. But not unwelcome."
Something relaxed in him—a tension I hadn't fully registered until it eased. Through our link, I felt relief and a warm current of something that might, in time, become more than just tactical partnership.
"Good," he said simply. Then, switching back to operational mode with characteristic efficiency: "We should continue training. The more we understand what we can do together, the better prepared we'll be."
I nodded, but placed my hand over his on the table—a deliberate physical connection to complement our psychic one. "Agreed. But Darian?"
"Yes?"
"Let's be careful that we don't become what we're fighting against."
Through our connection, I felt his acknowledgment of the warning—and his own matching concern. The power we were developing could easily corrupt if wielded without restraint or ethical boundaries.
"We keep each other honest," he said, turning his hand to clasp mine. "That's the true strength of this connection. Neither of us can hide our intentions from the other anymore."
It was both reassuring and terrifying—complete transparency with another person, down to the level of emotional truth. No more static barrier, no more strategic omissions or tactical deceptions. Just raw, unfiltered connection.
"Two days left," I said, focusing on the immediate challenge. "Let's make them count."
His fingers tightened around mine, and through our connection flowed a shared determination—along with something else, something neither of us was ready to name but both could clearly feel. Something that had started as tactical necessity but was rapidly becoming something else entirely.
Something that Lilith and Marcus, for all their dangerous power, would never understand.